


Postapocalyptic Porn

by Wellamyblake



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-13 08:50:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7970527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wellamyblake/pseuds/Wellamyblake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of smutty drabbles posted from tumblr and the 100 kink meme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I was a king (under your control)

Bellamy is no stranger to being attracted to men. He thinks he may be a little pickier when it comes to men he likes, or perhaps it’s just that girls - both on the Ark and the ground - were more likely to make their interest known, and he’d never really wanted to work for it before.

But Bellamy had hooked up with men, even since he’d hit the ground. One particularly hard night after Mt. Weather, his and Miller’s night at the bar turned into a hot makeout session in Bellamy’s quarters, Bellamy stroking his friend off with his hand until Miller came all over his chest, head flung back against the headboard, lips parted. Even after Miller had returned the favor, sucking on Bellamy’s cock until the older man’s sight turned white, Bellamy knew they were still just friends. Their hook-up had merely been born of mutual respect, attraction and affection.

When Bellamy first met Roan - really met him, being held at swordpoint by a stranger in one of the worst moments of his life doesn’t count - after the failed mission to Luna’s rig, he had admitted to himself that he found the man attractive. His thick build, strong jaw and quick eyes were a draw, but Bellamy also hated him, so the possibility of any possible entanglement was far from his mind. Bellamy made the mistake of thinking you had to care about someone to hook up with them, that there had to be some baseline of respect.

Apparently, there didn’t.

Bellamy was leading a mission to Ice Nation to explain the coming apocalypse when he found out the Ice King was still, indeed, alive. After three days of discussions and thinly veiled passive-aggressive one-upmanship among Ice Nation royalty, Roan had asked Bellamy to come to his quarters that evening. Bellamy had assumed it was to talk privately about the plans Bellamy was proposing.

Bellamy hoped the meeting would go well, because he felt so tightly wound he was about to burst. Sitting around a table talking when it felt like he should be fighting somehow for his survival made him restless, and the fight he’d had with Clarke before he’d left made something twist up in his belly that he didn’t want to examine too closely. 

When he entered Roan’s quarters, he was surprised to find the Ice King dressed in a thin shirt and what could only be described as pajama bottoms, made out of some thick flannel-like material.

“What am I doing here?” At Bellamy’s question, Roan looks up. The King’s casual stance in a lounge chair in the corner of the room was what had signified to Bellamy that this was not a business meeting, and the look on his face confirms it.

“You’ve done nothing but squirm in your seat all week. I wanted to make sure you were alright.” There’s an ironic glint in Roan’s eye.

Bellamy looks away, tries not to think about the stubble on Roan’s strong jaw. “I’m just not really cut out for diplomacy.”

“Sure you are,” Roan says. “Just not royal diplomacy. It’s so controlled, so tightly wound.”

Roan’s voice curls around the words, and Bellamy, to his complete dismay, can feel himself getting hard.

“I guess putting up with jerks like you all day just doesn’t do it for me.”

Roan has now risen from his chair, and when he stalks towards Bellamy he looks like a predator. He stops just inside Bellamy’s personal space, almost challenging him to back away. Bellamy doesn’t, fixated. Slowly, Roan palms Bellamy’s cock through his pants, causing him to involuntarily rut into his hand. A smile spreads across the Ice King’s face as he says, “Really? I’d say it definitely does it for you.”

Roan squeezes his hand and Bellamy can’t help the moan that leaves him. He can’t believe the response his body is having to this man. His need for release is so bad, he can barely keep himself from humping Roan’s palm.

Through his aroused haze Bellamy feels himself being honest. “Everyone here is counting on me. I’m tired of everyone counting on me. Especially here.”

Roan nods. “Not used to leading without Clarke, are you?” At the mention of her name, Bellamy gets shamefully hard, and Roan can feel it. He smirks. “What if I say you can let go of control for tonight? You look like you need to be unwound. Let me fuck you.”

Bellamy’s shouldn’t be surprised at the words - the man is gripping his cock, after all - but Roan’s signature straightforward style still startles him. “And if I say yes?”

Roan looks confused. “Then I fuck you,” he says matter-of-factly, “and tomorrow we can finish these damn talks so as many people can survive this apocalypse as possible.” He looks Bellamy in the eyes. “What do you think?”

Bellamy steels himself, then nods quickly. Roan looks at him disapprovingly. “Say it.”

Bellamy swallows, can’t believe the words are coming out of his mouth: “Fuck me.”

Roan dips forward, capturing Bellamy in an aggressive kiss that makes the younger man moan. Roan bites at his lip and licks into him hard and fast, continuing to stroke Bellamy’s hardened dick through the fabric of his pants. Bellamy tries to reach for Roan’s pants, shirt, something, but Roan slaps him away and pulls back from their kiss. 

“On your knees,” he orders. 

Bellamy drops before he even knows what he’s doing, but then he thinks to ask, looking up at the huge man before him: “I thought you were going to fuck me.”

“I thought we decided who was in control.” Bellamy swallows at that, tries to relax his body and clear his mind. “Besides,” Roan continues, “I didn’t say where I was going to fuck you.”

Bellamy can’t bite back the sound he makes at Roan’s words, and his cock is so hard now as to be painful. Roan notices.

“Take off your shirt and unbutton your pants.” Bellamy obliges gratefully, and can’t help but give himself a stroke when he releases his cock from his boxers.

“Now mine,” grunts Roan. Bellamy makes short work of the Ice King’s soft bottoms, and soon is pulling out the man’s huge cock. Roan puts his hand over Bellamy’s on his own cock and strokes it, making Bellamy’s mouth water and the head of his cock pulse. Bellamy sees precum blurt from the end of the other man’s girth.

“Suck on it.” Bellamy doesn’t need to be told twice. He treasures the mindlessness of drawing Roan into his mouth, suckling on the tip of his cock like he would want, then taking him deeper. He feels the bulge of the man’s cock in his cheek, hears Roan moan when he sees it. 

“That’s it, good job…” Roan murmurs, and Bellamy shoves down the shame that arises when the praise turns him on. Roan’s fingers massage Bellamy’s scalp as he pulls back and pushes Roan’s long cock up against his stomach to give him a long lick. When he’s done that, Roan’s fingers tighten in his hair, stilling him.

“I’m going to fuck your face now,” Roan warns, direct but not ungentle. “Just relax, you don’t need to be in control here. Tap my thigh to stop me.”

He doesn’t let Bellamy say anything before he pushes his dick back into Bellamy’s mouth, slowly gathering speed and depth with each thrust. At first, Bellamy balks, but at Roan’s squeeze of his hair, he relaxes his mouth and throat, enjoys untensing every single muscle in his body. When Roan reaches his gag reflex, Bellamy’s throat flutters around the other man’s cock, causing Roan to rut into him even farther and let out a stiff groan. Hearing the noises Roan makes as he works himself towards orgasm using Bellamy’s mouth and feeling Roan’s cock being to twitch and pulse almost makes Bellamy come right there, kneeling on the hard floor.

When Roan does come, he pulls out of Bellamy’s mouth and spurts come over Bellamy’s chest, an act that he might previously have found degrading, but now turns him on. Roan gently pulls him up from the ground and murmurs praise and thanks as he kisses him roughly. Roan maneuvers Bellamy to the bed, where Roan pushes him down so he can climb on top of him. Bellamy reaches down, desperate to touch his aching cock, but Roan grabs his hand. 

“No, let me. I’ve got you.” Still kissing him, Roan smears his fingers through his own come on Bellamy’s chest, and reaches down to rub it all up and down Bellamy’s cock like lube. The idea of Roan jacking him off with his own come makes Bellamy’s hip jerk up off the bed into the circle of Roan’s hand.

Roan uses one forearm to hold Bellamy down as his other hand works him up and down, his firm grip and slow pace driving Bellamy crazy. Roan licks into Bellamy’s mouth at the same rate he pumps him. Just at the moment when Bellamy thinks he can’t take it anymore, Roan’s hand travels down to cup Bellamy’s balls, then farther to stroke the sensitive patch of skin between his balls and anus. 

“Oh god, oh god - shit! Fuck, Roan, fuck -” Bellamy pants as Roan stops kissing him to move down his body and his hand returns to Bellamy’s swollen dick. When Roan’s head reaches waist level, he gives Bellamy a cheeky grin. Then, he puts his mouth on Bellamy’s cockhead and sucks hard while his other hand pumps him fast, from Bellamy’s base to where Roan’s lips are curved around his tip.

Bellamy shouts incoherently and tries to move his hips but Roan has him bolted in place. His orgasm rips through him and he grips the sheets and throws his head back as his cock pulses for an abnormally long period into Roan’s sucking mouth. When he comes down, Bellamy thinks he might never be able to move again, much less use his cock. 

Roan sits up, grinning. “I told you sometimes not being in control can do wonders for a man.”

He looks cocky, unsurprisingly, and Bellamy thinks he may have just given him the most intense orgasm of his life, but he still doesn’t like Roan of Azgeda.


	2. Morning Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy and Raven continue sleeping together after 1x11, but one morning changes things.

Raven loves the feeling of Bellamy’s cock in her, but she’s never felt it quite like this before. She’s used to them fucking hard and fast: her riding him in his tent after a long day or him getting her on her stomach so he can fuck her as hard as he wants to blow off steam. 

They’d realized how good they were at it after that first time, when she’d had sex with him to piss off Finn. Sure, it hadn’t made her feel better emotionally, but her cunt had certainly felt it for days afterward. So she had gone back, and now every time one of them needs a release, the other is there.

This morning is different though. Raven accidentally slept over last night, and wakes to bright sunlight and Bellamy giving kitten licks on her clit. When he realizes she’s awake, he reaches up to tweak her nipple, successfully forestalling whatever snark he knows is coming. But Raven is never actually able to make a comment about waking up to his head between her legs, because soon Bellamy is crawling over her, sucking her tongue into his mouth as she groans, missing his mouth on her cunt. She palms him through his boxers, ignoring his chuckle at her eagerness to get to the main event.

When she finally gets him to push himself inside her, it’s different than it’s ever been. He insists on a slow, heady pace that has the head of his dick deliberately dragging against all the right places as he moves methodically in and out of her. She’s non-verbal with how fucking good it feels, and can’t believe it’s affecting her like this.

Without changing his pace, Bellamy bites her lip and then pulls back to look her in the eye. Feeling him inside her, his smooth skin sliding against hers, she can’t bring herself to meet his gaze. It’s too intense. 

“Hey,” he whispers, and uses his hand to pull her chin towards him. “Look at me, huh?”

She opens her eyes, and realizes that this position is more intimate than any they’ve shared before. The realization, which she thinks should scare her, just makes her want to come sooner.

Seemingly understanding her silent plea, Bellamy’s thumb descends to rub soft but quick circles on her clit. When he feels her begin in tense, he ups his pace, now slamming into her over and over and over.

They come together, and Raven thinks she can feel her soul leaving her body as her cunt clenches around his cock and Bellamy’s cum pulses inside her.

Bellamy stays on top and inside her as they breath heavily, eyes still caught up in one another. “So,” he says, casual but not ungentle, “I love morning sex.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who ever knew I'd ever write braven sex. Idk but it was fun
> 
> Find me on tumblr @wellamyblake


	3. If only for a night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Octavia finds herself back at Niylah's post 3x16. Prompt from the 100 kink meme. Y'all know they were making eyes at each other in 3x11.

She hadn’t known where she was going when she stormed out of the throne room after killing Pike. As it turns out, she hadn’t really been going anywhere because it took two whole days for the survivors to build a pulley system that got them to the ground. But even with her feet on the solid ground again, Octavia feels like a caged animal.

Her revenge was supposed to make her feel better, less like she was constantly choking on poison and couldn’t breathe, not more. The fact that she had killed Pike in cold blood and yet still wasn’t satisfied made it impossible for Octavia to look into her mentor’s eyes as she pulled Indra down from the cross. So after leaving Indra safely in the arms of her comrades, Octavia runs. 

…

It’s not until she’s standing outside the huge whale bones that mark the entrance to Niylah’s outpost that Octavia even realizes where her feet have taken her. She’s been living off the land for days, and perhaps it was the thought of better food and sustenance that drew her here. But then Octavia remembers the cool eyes and the kind smile of the girl who owns this outpost, and she knows she’s lying to herself. She takes a deep breath, and walks in.

“What is it with you sky people and always showing up at the worst times?” Octavia turns to the source of the voice behind the messy counter. She hadn’t noticed Niylah in the room when she first entered, the light of a few candles not enough to keep the darkness of the night at bay.

“I’m not skaikru,” Octavia responds sharply in trigedasleng. The last thing she wants is for this woman to associate her with the people who killed her father, people Octavia herself mourned. Besides, she thinks bitterly, she never really was one of them, not since birth.

Niylah has approached her in the darkness, and she’s suddenly standing much closer than Octavia anticipated. 

“Then why are you here?” The older woman asks, voice soft.

Octavia swallows, but can’t stop Niylah’s scent from overpowering her. It’s a combination of earthiness - a smell Octavia associated with Lincoln - and her own brand of spice that Octavia thinks she must have gotten trading with some far-off clan. When Niylah’s hand touches Octavia’s forearm, she’s hit with a pang of want so powerful she barely recognizes it, having not felt anything other than anger with clarity like this since she lost Lincoln. She decides in an instant what she wants. 

Octavia meets Niylah’s eyes in the semi-darkness, invitation mixed with challenge. “I came to return your clothes.”

Niylah pauses, then slides her hand up Octavia’s forearm until she reaches her neck where she can brush her thumb along Octavia’s jaw. “Well I guess you’d better take them off then.”  
Octavia crashes her lips to Niylah’s, all energy and aggression to the other girl’s gentle softness. Niylah meets her kiss, instantly licking into Octavia’s mouth. Octavia, blind with passion and the need to escape into Niylah’s soft skin and delicious scent, walks her back until Niylah’s knees hit one of the chairs available for trade in the front of the store room.

Niylah lets Octavia push her down, lets her straddle her on the wooden chair. Instead of meeting Niylah’s open gaze, Octavia pulls the girl’s shirt up over her head, eager to taste the tits that used to fill out the shirt Octavia now wears. Niylah’s eyes are no longer searching when Octavia’s mouth closes over her nipple, swirling her tongue around the bud until Niylah whimpers and then giving her some teeth. Octavia ruts into Niylah’s lap, desperate for release, one she’s been needing for days.

Niylah catches on quickly, unbuttoning her own pants on Octavia, slipping her hand beneath the girl’s panties to find her hot and ready. “God, you feel so good, so wet for me,” Niylah moans into Octavia’s hair.

Niylah’s voice, so much higher than the one Octavia is used to hearing when she feels this way, is distracting enough to almost jar Octavia out of the moment. Instead, she moves her lips back to Niylah’s mouth, stifling any further words. Niylah rubs firm circles around Octavia’s clit several times, building her up so when she slips her middle and index finger into her cunt, Octavia keens. 

Niylah manages to keep a steady thrusting pace despite Octavia’s wildly bucking hips, and bites at Octavia’s nipples through her shirt. Octavia, glad that Niylah had gotten the memo about wanting it fast and dirty, throws her head back and tries to focus only on Niylah’s long fingers stroking deep inside her and the friction of her hardened nipples against the fabric of her borrowed shirt. When Niylah reaches down with her other thumb to press on Octavia's clit, she loses it, seeing white and bucking wildly against Niylah’s hands, the sweetest release she’s had in weeks.

Niylah muffles the last of the deep moaning sounds Octavia makes by fitting her lips back with hers, teeth skimming O’s bottom lip. As Octavia comes down, she steps out of Niylah’s lap to pull the other girl’s pants and underwear down all at once. There is something undeniably hot about having this beautiful, lounging grounder women completely bare before her while Octavia is still nearly fully clothed. It makes her feel… powerful.

Niylah spreads her legs wide, with no timidity, making Octavia’s clit pulse. She kneels in front of the grounder woman, and immediately takes her clit into her mouth, softly suckling. Niylah, not expecting such intense contact after no stimulation, gasps and pulls Octavia’s hair. The pain only sharpens Octavia’s focus as she moves off Niylah’s clit to lick long, broad strokes up and down Niylah’s cunt, driving the other girl crazy. 

“Please, please…” Niylah moans, eyes closed and legs trembling. Octavia spears her tongue into Niylah’s cunt, getting as deep as can with each thrust. Niylah jerks and her head thumps against the wall behind her, the chair creaking as she shakes. When Octavia can feel how close the other woman is, she gives it her, starts rubbing small, tight circles over Niylah’s clit as she fucks her relentlessly with her tongue. Niylah cries out shrilly, coming with her hand in Octavia’s hair, as if to pull her farther into her cunt.

When Niylah’s pussy has stopped clenching around Octavia’s tongue, Octavia crawls back onto Niylah’s lap, giving her a chaste kiss, feeling more at ease than she can remember being in months. She figures she has at least a minute before grief drowns her again.

“You never did get my clothes off,” Octavia whispers to Niylah, blissed out beneath her.

Niylah opens one eye, and even in her half-gaze Octavia can see warmth and understanding. 

“It’s okay, they look better on you anyway.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yall can't judge me for any of this
> 
> Find me on tumblr @wellamyblake


End file.
